


Every Heartbeat

by When_Tommy_Met_Alfie



Series: When Tommy met Alfie AU [20]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season/Series01 AU, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, wtma AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 11:01:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14235852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/When_Tommy_Met_Alfie/pseuds/When_Tommy_Met_Alfie
Summary: After Tommy’s run in with Sabini, Alfie makes –unbeknownst to Tommy himself- some decisions regarding his safety. Tommy eventually finds out, and things escalate from there.





	Every Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY it’s here! I'm freaking out. Really hoping this is at least somewhat of a satisfactory solution to the slow-burn ‘I love you’ exchange. This is based on two requests from tumblr: one asking for the classic 'someone shouting because I love you' trope, and one about Tommy and Alfie's first mutual I love you. 
> 
> This contains references to ‘Blood on my name’, but can probably be made sense of on its own too! 
> 
> Now I'm off to sleep for about three days!

"No, that’s it, I’ve had enough of this bullshit for one day. How about we go home?”

Tommy looks up from his papers at Alfie, who is getting out of his chair and rolling his shoulders.

He turns his attention back to the work before offering a response, “Why don’t you go? I’d like to finish this up.” 

The floorboards creak under Alfie’s feet, and soon two warm hands settle on his shoulders. Alfie runs a thumb over the side of his neck.

“Oh, it can wait. There are much more appropriate activities, right, for a night like this.”

It’s an indication to the icy January winds that are whistling against the windowpane. “Like… sitting by the fireplace. Or… do some other kind of activity by the fireplace.” 

Alfie’s beard scratches his cheek lightly as he leans down and presses a kiss onto it. Tommy runs his fingers through it.

“I’ll only be an hour. At most,” he promises and cranes his neck a bit, allowing for Alfie to kiss him fully on the lips before straightening up. “And then we can do all sorts of things in front of that fire.” 

“Fine. An hour.” Alfie looks admonishingly at him. “Any longer and I’ll have Ollie escort you home. I’m sure he can throw you over one of his shoulders.” 

“He can always try,” Tommy mutters and returns to the paperwork. A soft chuckle is heard from Alfie as he gives his shoulders one last squeeze, before going to grab his coat.

“I’ll have dinner ready, alright? And please for the love of all that is good and holy, don’t stay out longer than you need to just to fucking smoke,” Alfie fusses. “It’s bloody freezing outside. Fucking hell, hate the winter. Bullshit season.”

Tommy hums.

“Hey.” 

Alfie’s little exclamation earns him his attention again. He’s standing in the doorway with this thoughtful look on his face, about to say something, clearly.

“Do you have anything else you'd like to fuss about?” Tommy asks with an amused smile when no words come. It causes Alfie to snap out of whatever thought he’s lost in. 

“None at all, love. Just wanted to look at your eyes for a bit, yeah?” he winks and smiles back. It warms his entire heart. “I’ll be without them for an entire hour. How will I survive?” 

“Go home, Alfie,” Tommy says as sternly as he can manage and grins like a love-struck fool down at his papers. “Or this will just take longer. You’re distracting me.” You and your stupid, handsome face. 

Alfie lingers in the doorway for just a moment. There’s that hesitation again. He can somehow feel it in the air. 

They’re probably spending far too much time together.

“See you in a bit, darling.” 

Tommy nods and gives Alfie another hum. 

An hour later –and it somehow feels like much longer- Tommy decides that enough is enough, puts away the documents and fetches his coat. Then he heads home from the office in the freezing winter night, and has to resist the urge to warm his hands under his coat. His thin leather gloves are not doing much to protect them from the chill. He lights a cigarette and lets the smoke heat him up from the inside. 

He’ll get to warm his hands against Alfie’s chest soon enough, what’s a bit of cold when he’s got that to look forward to? It’s like the mere thought of it warms him as he walks the dimly lit streets. They are more or less deserted due to the harsh weather and later hour, and that’s why he notices them: the two men. 

He sees them out of the corner of his eye, walking on the opposite side of the street quite a bit behind him, but heading in the same direction. Something about the pace they’re walking at is off- he’s learnt to notice things like that. 

He gives it a few minutes, finishing his cigarette and dropping it onto the ground. He slows his step just a bit –walking faster is never a good idea. Never show urgency. 

The distance between him and the two men doesn’t change –they adjust their pace to his. It’s a dead giveaway. 

Fucking amateurs.

Looks like he won’t be home in quite a while after all. He’s more annoyed than anything at this disruption of his night. 

Tommy makes a quick left turn, disappearing into the shadows of an alley-way and pulls his gun. Then around another corner, until he’s standing with his back pressed against the rough brick wall of some tiny backstreet. His breath forms white clouds, and he tries to release it into the collar of his coat. But his heart beats in its normal, even rhythm. He’s got the upper hand here.

There might be two of them, but they’re quite clearly idiots. 

Two sets of hurried footsteps echo through the alley.

“Fuck, where did he go?” A hushed voice comes from a few feet away. How fucking stupid are these people? Sabini should really look into finding a higher calibre of henchmen, if this is going to be a fair fight. 

But doesn’t he recognize that voice from somewhere? 

“Solomons is going to fucking kill us if we’ve lost him…”

The mention of Alfie’s name makes Tommy furrow his brow and a sudden suspicion creeps up on him. And he can definitely place that voice now, in this new context. 

Two figures pass by in the alley and Tommy steps out of the shadows, aiming his gun at the man closest to him. The tallest one. 

“Ishmael-“ his voice makes both of the men turn around. “Would you kindly fucking explain why you and Eli are following me like a pair of lost dogs?”

“Hey now, put that thing away,” Ishmael throws his hands up in a disarming gesture. “No need for any violence here.” Next to him, Eli is looking about ready to fling himself in the nearest dumpster.

“Not sure I like that tone,” Tommy says coldly and cocks the gun. 

“We’re just following orders, alright,” Eli tries to take a step forward, and ends up having the gun aimed at his forehead. “Mr. Shelby-“ he adds hurriedly. 

“Alfie put you up to this?” Tommy keeps his voice calm, but can feel the blood beginning to boil under his skin. Because of course it’s Alfie. And the realisation hits him in the face like a fucking brick. Alfie thinks that he’s some helpless little boy who can’t take care of himself. Because this is London, and he’s out of his league here. 

A liability. Alfie thinks that he’s a liability.

“Who else?” Ishmael seems to very much regret this comment when Tommy gives him one of his most icy stares. 

“It’s just a precaution, what with the Italians and everything…” Eli tries to explain, as if Tommy is completely fucking clueless. 

Inhaling a long breath of cold air into his lungs, Tommy holsters the gun and turns to leave. Eli and Ishmael stay where they are, and he hears a few quiet fraises in Hebrew being exchanged. He cuts their little scheme short, but doesn’t look back. 

“If either of you even think about following, I’m going to shoot you,” he tells them.   

They have enough sense to listen.

Tommy takes a long detour instead of going home. He needs to calm down. The humiliation burns his cheeks, making them feel hot despite the icy wind that whips against his face. It’s shaping up to be quite the storm and it very well matches how he’s feeling as he walks down yet another abandoned street. Trying to sort his head out, gain some sort of control over his frantic thoughts.

Fuck, he should’ve known. Of course Alfie would do something like this, after the incident with Sabini. How could he have been this fucking stupid? _Oh, this is an equal partnership_ \- fucking bullshit. Alfie went behind his back and sent his fucking guard dogs to watch him. As if that would even help… Alfie has a leaning towards hubris at times, but this is fucking ridiculous even for him.

He walks. Can’t smoke because of the wind. It feels like it’s coursing straight through him, chilling his bones. The anger still sits like a hard knot his stomach, but the betrayal feels worse. It weighs down on his chest. 

For a little while, he considers just getting into his car and driving to Birmingham. Or take in at a hotel. Anything to avoid going home to Alfie and facing this. But something keeps him from doing either of those things. Maybe some little sensible part of his brain that tells him running away from this won’t solve shit. 

So he just ends up walking the empty streets. 

Finally, he’s so cold that he’s physically unable to keep his teeth from chattering and his hands from trembling. But he can’t go home. Because if he does, he knows he will do something, say something awful and Alfie will finally see just how cracked and ugly everything inside of him is. And he’ll leave. Because all he wanted was to protect him, and Tommy knows that- it’s what it all comes down to.   

But he doesn’t fucking need to be protected. Because he’s not weak. And he doesn’t need anyone-

 _You’re weak. You know what happens to weak people in this world? They end up under the boot of someone stronger._ The words ring through his ears and he shakes his head. It was half a fucking lifetime ago, why can’t he get them out of his brain? _See that’s why I’m doing this. It’s just to help you. Crying about a fucking horse- pathetic._  

He’s by the Thames now, right down by the water. Black waves are clashing against the edge and he stops to look at them. 

The cold seeps through his fingers, his face, his neck- It’s painful, and he revels in the feeling. It’s a welcomed distraction from his own head. 

 

He somehow senses that he’s not alone anymore before he actually sees it. But when he turns his head towards the street, a familiar figure is approaching him.

He’d recognize that massive frame anywhere. 

Alfie looks absolutely livid. Dishevelled, without his hat or even his cane. As if he’s just rushed out the door. But his voice is surprisingly collected when he calls out to him through the roaring wind.

“Evening Tommy. Fancy meeting you here.” 

He knows that the calm is deceptive. 

Tommy looks down at the black water, waiting until he’s close before speaking up. 

“How did you find me?” He already knows, of course.

“Think Eli and Ishmael are the only ones keeping an eye on you?” Alfie scoffs. And he can hear that dangerous edge to his voice now. “I’ve had half my fucking staff out looking for you. Took them long enough, still. Fucking incompetent, the lot of them.” 

“So why didn’t you just have one of them drag me home then?” Tommy lets out a humourless chuckle, turning to face him. “Why bother coming here? In this shitty weather.” A single streetlight shines above them, but he can still see the anger etched on Alfie’s face. It’s in every line on his forehead, the furrowed brows, the clenched jaw. 

“Well, you did pull a gun on Ishmael,” he says as if this is enough of an explanation. 

They stare each other down. Alfie clenches and unclenches his jaw and his hands twitches at his sides. 

“How long has this been going on?” Tommy wants to know. Better get this over with. 

“Have a fucking guess.”  

“How long, Alfie?”   

“How long? Oh well I don’t know,” Alfie snickers. “Could it be since I found you bleeding out on my fucking kitchen floor, eh? Enough to warrant just a little bit of concern, perhaps?”  
  
Tommy swallows and bites the inside of his cheek in an attempt to keep his face under control. He’s not going to lose it this time. He’s going to keep it together. No matter how infuriating Alfie is.

A liability. Alfie thinks that he’s-

“Three months,” he concludes, folding his arms over his chest, mostly to hide the fact that his hands are shaking with anger instead of just cold now. “You’ve had people following me, for three fucking months.”

It feels like the wind is increasing in strength. Or maybe he’s just imagining it. 

 “Oh, I wouldn’t put it like that,” Alfie chuckles dryly and gives him a mocking little smile. “Sometimes they’re just nearby. In a car. Something of the sorts.” He looks down at Tommy, like he’s a reprimanding a disobedient child. And it just makes Tommy lose it completely. 

“This-“  he grasps his elbows until his knuckles are whitening. “This is fucking unacceptable.” He’ll end up bruising his own arms. The breath that he forces down his lungs is shaky. “You can’t just go behind my back, like I’m a fucking child-” 

“And what if I’d told you?” Alfie cuts him off. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t have been just as pissed at me then, for even suggesting it. So what was I supposed to do?” 

His question goes unanswered, and for a bit, all that is heard is the waves crashing against the pier. Tommy feels the spray of water over his feet, but just barely. They’re too cold. 

The blood rushes behind his ears, and his heart is beating wildly in his chest. 

He’s taken care of everything, alone. Ever since their father left and he realised no one else was going to do it. 

“Do you have any idea how humiliated I felt?” he spits and bores his eyes into Alfie’s. “Everyone already thinks I’m whoring myself out, to move up. Don't need to add shit like this too.” 

Face twisting into a scowl, Alfie takes that last step that separates them until he’s close enough for Tommy to feel his warm breath. 

“This ain’t about your fucking pride, Tommy,” he barks, voice raising to match the screaming wind. “You’re so _fucking_ arrogant. There's one fucking reason alright, that you’re even alive! And it's that Sabini _decided_ not to put that bullet through your head.” He jabs a finger into his forehead. Tommy can almost physically feel the anger roll off him in waves. “I need to do something to keep you safe. Fucking hell- Is it really that bloody hard to understand?” 

The wind is strong enough to almost throw him off his feet. At least it feels that way. Snow has begun falling again, icy flakes that whips against his face. 

“I don’t need to be kept safe!” Tommy can feel the words tearing at his throat as he shouts them at Alfie. “It may come as a surprise to you, but my life doesn’t fucking revolve around you-“ _but it does._ “And things were fine! Before you just decided to crash into it.” 

“They were _fine_ were they?” Alfie is right in his face now, screaming at him with every bit of strength his lungs can muster. “All that fucking whiskey? That shit you used to smoke- never sleeping- that was fine? And this, just wandering off on your own- Fuck, it’s like you’re actively trying to be a hazard to yourself.” He pauses, just to draw in a breath. “What am I supposed to do to keep you alive?”   

Tommy can’t answer. Because he doesn’t know. He can’t do this. It’s suffocating him. Despite the wind coursing straight through him, it feels like he’s not getting enough air. 

He doesn’t want to depend on someone. He can’t. 

He’s not weak. 

A large piece of driftwood sails over the inky water, and he follows it with his eyes. It tosses in the waves, disappearing and then resurfacing again. 

He doesn’t want to be here- he’s set something off that he can’t control. 

“Look at me, what am I supposed to do?” Alfie grabs his shoulders, shakes him. But his voice has changed, the anger has been replaced by a sudden desperation. 

“If I’m such a fucking burden then why do you put up with me?” Tommy shouts, all while his mind is screaming just as loud at him to shut up. _Don’t ask._ _Don’t make him realise you’re not worth the trouble._ He struggles to get loose, and Alfie instantly releases him and backs away, chest heaving in frantic breaths. For just a moment he looks down at his hands. He takes another step backwards, puts more distance between them until Tommy is no longer within reach. 

A massive wave crashes against the bank, spraying ice cold water over them both. Tommy suddenly realises he’s standing dangerously close to the edge. 

“I’ll never be good enough for you.” His voice cracks. “I’ll never be-“ _kind, funny, warm-_ “Enough. So why don’t you just find yourself someone else?” He throws the last words in Alfie’s face with as much spite as he can muster. 

Alfie is silent, and he can almost see the thoughts running through his mind. Tommy imagines he’s thinking it over, reconsidering this whole thing. Thinking of how much time and effort he’s put into mending the cracked and ugly thing that is Tommy’s heart- 

And this was all he got in return. 

Alfie is going to realise he’s not worth it now- 

“Because I love you, you fucking idiot!” 

Tommy thinks his heart stops beating for a moment. He stares at Alfie, who stares back. The look in his eyes clearly depicts that he can’t quite believe he just uttered those words.

The wind still howls.

“I love you,” Alfie repeats, with that desperate edge to his voice. “And I don’t want anyone else. You impossible, infuriating mess of a person… And I’m fucking terrified, right, that it shows. That someone will take you away when they realise…” 

Tommy knows he doesn’t deserve this. Doesn’t deserve Alfie’s love.

But he wants it, desperately.

Alfie deserves someone better. Should run in the opposite direction.

There are a million things Tommy should say to him. And maybe a year ago, he would have. Screamed at Alfie that ‘how can you love me? Just look at me, what is there to love?’ Maybe he wouldn’t have believed him. 

But now he looks at Alfie, and he does believe him. 

Alfie loves him. 

Alfie, who could have anyone, with his charm and warmth and humour- Who has seen so many of his ugly sides. The ones Tommy sometimes wishes he could just carve out, to make himself worthy of someone’s love. 

But Alfie loves him. Despite them. 

And if Alfie loves him, that means there has to be something about him, however small, that is still worth loving.

“Fuck, I know it’s fucking stupid... maybe you don’t do shit like that. But I love you- Alfie’s face is filled with a rare insecurity. “That’s why need you to be safe. Because I don’t know what I’ll do-” he swallows and runs a hand over his mouth. “I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens- But I get it. Not your thing, this-“   

“I love you too.” Tommy doesn’t think. Just says it. The words feel strange and wonderful to utter. Alfie closes his mouth in the middle of a word, speechless for once. 

Despite the howling wind and the waves, Tommy can hear his own too loud heartbeat in his ears. Can feel how it hammers in his chest, sending vibrations up his throat and making it feel like it’s in several places at once. He tries to say something else, wants to explain just how much-

But his heart has lodged itself in his throat now and he can’t get a single word out. He turns away from the wind, because the snow is making his eyes water.

The driftwood in the water has disappeared from sight.

Then he’s suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace as Alfie kisses him. He wraps his arms around Alfie’s neck and clings to him. 

The kiss is laced with that same desperation from before, and Alfie holds him tightly, as if he’s afraid he’ll suddenly just vanish into thin air. 

”I’m sorry,” Tommy mumbles against his lips, not sure what he’s referring to exactly. _Sorry for running away, sorry for reacting like this, sorry for-_

Alfie hushes him. And the way he smiles at him makes Tommy forget everything else. 

“We’ll catch our deaths if we keep standing around here.” Still with an arm firmly around his shoulders, he pulls him away from the edge.

 

They get home eventually, that night.   

Alfie lights a fire while Tommy fights a losing battle against his trembling hands as he tries to untie his boots, sat in the armchair. 

“Come here-“ Alfie reaches out and pulls him to his feet, leading him up to the fireplace. The warmth hits Tommy like a pleasant wave. Then, Alfie helps him with his boots. It’s strangely quiet in the living room. Must be the contrast from the storm outside.

“Fuck, you’re freezing,” Alfie mutters as he moves on to unbuttoning his shirt. The words feel familiar, somehow. “Bet you’ll catch a cold now. With your luck…” he keeps muttering little things like that. Tommy twirls a finger into some of the longer strands of his beard, but ends up putting the hand against his neck instead when he feels how warm it is. 

He cups his jaw, pulling his face closer and kisses him. 

“Why don’t you warm me up?” His fingers fumble with the buttons of Alfie’s shirt. “Heard that body heat is the best thing in situations like this.”

“Right you are, love,” Alfie gently removes his hands and takes over the task, taking off his own shirt before going back to Tommy’s.   

The heat from the fire reaches more of his skin and forces some of the chill from his bones.

Neither of them speak –there’s been enough words already. And they don’t really need to. Not right now.

When there are no more layers of clothing separating them, Alfie pulls him down onto the thick rug, settling between his legs as he kisses him. The position is reassuringly familiar. And it does help- Tommy already feels some of the worst cold be chased away as Alfie lays down on top of him.

He wraps his legs around Alfie, pushing his heels into the back of his thighs. Gently, just to let him know that he wants more. Then lets out an encouraging moan when Alfie rolls his hips.

Alfie sits back and wets two fingers with his mouth. 

He opens him up agonizingly slowly, and Tommy closes his eyes, palms pressing down into the rug as a finger rubs that spot inside of him. By now, Alfie knows just how to touch him, knows just how to move his fingers to leave him begging for more.

He opens his eyes again when Alfie carefully pushes into him, wants to look at him. Alfie smiles, places a kiss on his collarbone. The warm glow from the fire makes his eyes soft. 

Then again, Alfie often looks at him that way. In any light.

His hand finds Alfie’s, and their fingers entwine as Alfie moves inside of him. He listens to the sound of the crackling fire, to Alfie’s deepening breaths that soon turn into moans. Little by little, he feels the heat creep back into his body. He wraps his arms tightly around Alfie’s broad shoulders, pulling him closer. It’s slow. Gentle. After all the harsh words, all the accusations and screaming, this feels like a comfort.  

And Alfie keeps it that way throughout, taking him in languid, deep thrusts until they both fall apart, collapsing down onto the rug and gasping for breaths.

“You’re still cold,” Alfie’s voice seems to come from far away, and Tommy only lets out a breath through his nose in response. The warm body on top of him disappears for a moment as Alfie reaches for the throw on the couch. And a pillow which he settles his head on, before pulling Tommy close and covering them both with the blanket.  

The gesture makes Tommy laugh. He’s not sure why. Maybe because his chest is filled with a sort of bubbling, sparkling feeling that just needs to find some way out.

“We should move to the couch,” he points out, thinking about Alfie’s back. But he makes no attempt to actually follow through with the suggestion. The chest that his cheek rests against his a far too comfortable spot 

“In a bit,” Alfie decides. 

The fire crackles softly and Alfie warms Tommy’s hands by rubbing them between his own, blowing hot air onto the fingers. 

“I’m not sorry, you know,” he says after some silence. “Not for all of it, at least.” 

Tommy just has to laugh again then, at how infuriating he is. And at how little he cares right now.

“Of course you’re not.”

“But I’m sorry for all the screaming, alright,” Alfie massages one of his wrists. Pauses. “And for grabbing you like that. I just… lost it for a bit.” 

“Think I did my fair share of screaming too.” 

When Alfie doesn’t answer, Tommy raises his head and looks up at him. Alfie’s eyes are fastened on some unknown spot, distant. He reaches out and cradles his face in his palm, running a thumb over his cheek. 

“Alfie, it’s fine.” 

“It’s not. There are no excuses for shit like that.” 

Tommy knows what he’s implying

“You weren’t about to hit me.”

“How do you know?” 

Now, Tommy sets his elbows next to Alfie’s head and looks down at him. And Alfie stops just staring into the distance and meets his eyes.

“Because I’ve seen the way people look… right before they do,” he says firmly and hopes Alfie won’t push the matter. It’s not something he’d like to think about. “And it wasn’t like that. Please stop worrying about it.” 

The wrinkle between Alfie’s eyebrows disappear, together with the concerned lines on his forehead. He offers him a slight smile. Satisfied, Tommy settles his head back on his chest and looks into the fire. 

 

The rest of the night passes by in more of that golden haze. Alfie dresses Tommy in one of his shirts and they sit opposite each other on the couch as he rubs his feet. Chasing away some of that last, lingering cold while Tommy lights his first cigarette in God knows how long.  

And when Alfie eventually decides they need to eat something, Tommy ends up following him to the kitchen. Just to sit by the table and watch him reheat some forgotten soup that was supposed to be dinner several hours ago. 

They eat on the fucking floor in front of the fire place… And it’s like being enveloped in a soft warm glow. Tommy constantly thinks about it: whenever Alfie does one of those normal little affectionate things- kisses his forehead, smooths his hair back, runs a hand down his arm.

_This is how it feels, this is what it’s like…_

When it’s well after midnight, they still haven’t managed to get to bed. Instead they’re curled up on the couch, watching the last flames of the fire flicker among the black embers. 

“This may be a bad time to bring it up,” Alfie sighs after one of his thoughtful silences. “But we still need to talk about it. The safety thing. Better sooner than later, I recon. We don’t have to figure shit out right now. But there needs to be some kind of mutual understanding, alright?” 

“If Sabini puts his mind to it, one or two of your men won’t do much difference,” Tommy points out. “It’s just two more bullets.”   

“Don’t-“ Alfie shakes his head and pulls him closer. “Don’t say shit like that.” There’s a long pause. “I know I can’t keep you safe. Our own fault really, being in this business and all that. But you have to let me try. Because if I don’t… and something happens, I won’t be able to fucking live with myself. So maybe you could live with this, yeah?” 

Tommy absolutely, on no fucking conditions wants this. It still feels humiliating. But for Alfie’s sake, he’ll try a compromise. 

 He does a whole lot of things for Alfie’s sake. Because he loves him. 

“Fine. I’ll live with it,” he says. “But I have a few conditions.” 

Alfie’s face lights up.

“Negotiation, my favourite activity.” 

Tommy rests his head on his shoulder. 

“But maybe we could wait with those until tomorrow,” he yawns. “I’m not really in the mood.” 

Neither is Alfie, it would seem. 

All that is heard is the wind outside and the crackling fire. And the wind that was such a threatening roar outside just seems like a pleasant whisper now.

“Today, I thought about cobblestones,” Alfie suddenly says. Quietly, that way he speaks when they’re lying in bed, and he’s trying to calm Tommy down from some nightmare.

“Mhm,” Tommy mutters. “Tell me.” He takes one of Alfie’s hands where it rests on his thigh and runs his thumb over the rings.

“Well, takes a lot of those things, right, just to cover a single street.” Alfie has a thoughtful look on his face, as if he’s actually pondered this.

Tommy loves him so much it feels like his heart will burst.

Alfie’s rests his cheek against the top of his head, and his fingers scratch the nape of his neck lightly.

“So, imagine being the poor sod who had to lay all those out. Just looking at that whole fucking street. Stretching for miles. Knowing you would have to get through the entire thing…”

Alfie’s voice begins to blend into the sound of the fire. Tommy feels himself drifting off, and can’t quite understand the words he’s saying. It’s more of a comforting hum in the background. Like the wind outside. Tommy feels his eyelids growing heavier with each second.

And everything is warm and soft, and safe. 

He tries to keep his eyes open, keep looking at the glowing embers in the fireplace. They mix together, become more of an indistinct pattern of black and red with each time he blinks. Alfie strokes his hair. It seems like he’s stopped talking… Tommy should suggest that they go upstairs soon. But he’s just going to rest his eyes for a little while first… just a little while…   

Someone is carrying him. He feels the familiar sensation of the world floating around him. Hears the creaking of the staircase.

“Alfie?” he mutters and shifts a bit, burying his nose in the crook of Alfie’s neck. His eyelids are too heavy to open. But he doesn't feel the need to. 

“Just go ahead and sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

And Tommy thinks of it again, it flickers by in his mind just before he drifts off: this is how it feels to be loved by someone.

 


End file.
